Dig Two Graves
by Star-Child xx
Summary: Gin is saved after his battle with Aizen and instantly put on death row in the Soul Society. Before the execution, however, Captain Ukitake is tasked with recording the various anecdotes from Gin's life, but as Gin tries to heal, Jushiro spirals.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hi! I wrote a fanfiction! Please enjoy it. Just one thing: while I was writing this, I forgot that Gin's arm was ripped off by Aizen when they fought, and, well, it's already a bit of an AU, so I now declare that all ripped-off arms are officially reattached within the bounds of this story. Hey, it would only be fair.

Also, on a shipping note: Yeah, there probably won't be very much blatantly in here, and if we do actually see anyone getting it on in here, it'll most likely be Gin and Rangiku, because right now it just makes the most sense in the context of the story- though I'm not making nay promises either way.

Disclaimer: Bleach is not mine. Also, Confucius is not me.

Warnings: None really for this chapter I don't think. Definitely some later, though. Probably some language later, also some violence, maybe some sex.

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><p><strong>CHAPTER I<strong>

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><p>"<em>Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves." ~ Confucius<em>

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><p>"You know they're going to execute you anyway. In fact, if you had been found by anyone other than Rangiku Matsumoto, well…"<p>

"Why are you even here?"

"The guards let me in." A pause. "I promised not to spit."

"Right, right, and so the magnificent Byakuya Kuchiki stops in for a visit."

Gin cracked his eyes open and caught a hazy image of the sixth-squad captain in all his monochromatic glory.

"They've locked Aizen away."

"That's all?"

"All I'm here to tell you? Or all they went ahead and did?"

A slow, shaky laugh escaped Gin's throat.

"I would have thought they'd have killed him."

"I hear you tried."

"Did you now?" Another laugh. "Who told you that?"

Byakuya didn't reply to this. Instead, he simply stared at the captive from his place by the door. Across the room, Gin lay on ledge of the same cold, reiatsu-blocking stone that made up the vast interior of the Senzaikyu prison. He tucked his arms behind his head and slowly began to walk his toes up the wall in front of him. From the doorway, he could hear Byakuya sigh.

"They couldn't kill him, you know."

For the first time in weeks, Gin's smile was almost genuine. Almost.

"So, it wasn't your fault that he didn't die." Byakuya continued, taking a few steps towards the prisoner. Gin let his foot drop back onto the ledge and for a moment, they stared at each other in silence. After a while, it occurred to Gin to say something—anything—to break the quiet, but before he could, his stomach let out a strangled, hollow growl.

"They haven't been feeding you, then?"

Gin rolled his eyes and placed a long, pale hand on his middle.

"They've tried all sorts of clever methods to kill my reiatsu dead."

"You do look thinner…"

"I'm starving."

"…but it might just be that awful robe…"

"You know what I could go for? Some persimmons. Dried persimmons."

"… That robe doesn't do a thing for your appearance, washes you out like nothing…"

"And a little cup of sake. You know, I haven't had a drink in years. I was too afraid of spilling _some_ secrets to _somebody_…"

"…but I guess that's what you get…"

"But I guess that's what I get."

Silence resumed, and Gin turned away from the captain to look back out the window, this one overlooking the massive shining labyrinth that was Seireitei. The sun was ready to set and the clouds reflected a bright orange glow.

"I do have something else to tell you."

"And what would that be?" Gin spoke into the window. He could see Byakuya's reflection advancing. The place that he stopped, Gin estimated, was a line etched into the ground about ten feet from the window ledge. Earlier in the day, a guard had secured a chain about ten feet in length around the criminal's ankle, something Gin only barely registered as he drifted in and out of dreamless sleep.

"Tomorrow."

"They're killing me, I figured."

"You figured wrong. The Central Forty-Six have declined thus far to set a date for your execution."

"Ahh, bummer." Gin whispered dryly, though his heartbeat had already sped up in anticipation. In the reflection, he could see Byakuya's features harden. "Alright, I give up. What's happening tomorrow?"

"I don't think you are taking your situation as seriously as you should."

"I'm taking it plenty seriously." Gin said lazily and without an ounce of defense, though his heart still pounded visibly in his chest. Byakuya sighed.

"Tomorrow," he repeated finally, "We are sending someone in here. You'll talk to them, they'll take down your story."

At this, Gin snapped upright, though a wave of dizziness and nausea rolled over him at the sudden change of position. "No."

"Yes." Byakuya was almost smirking at the sight of Gin struggling to keep his head up.

"I won't say anything."

"I'm afraid you'll have to."

"Or what?" Painfully, Gin raised his eyes and brushed away strands of his silvery hair. Byakuya was definitely smirking now. "What I'd like to do to you…"

"I'm also afraid that your private desires are of no bearing right now."

"You asshole." Gin said darkly, the smile all but melting from his visage. With great effort, the prisoner began to push himself to his feet. Byakuya stood his ground.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Ichimaru. You don't look well."

"Go screw yourself." In a second, Gin was up on his wobbly, bare feet. What he would have liked to say was a little longer, a little more thought out, a little more analytical of Byakuya's behavior, but in another second, Gin found himself tasting the stone floor.

"I warned you."

Gin twisted from his position on the ground. He had fallen right at Byakuya's feet and found himself staring at his pristine white socks and the hem of his hakama. For just a moment, Gin fought the urge to bite him.

"Anyway," Byakuya stepped back from the line, closing Gin's window of opportunity. "Tomorrow, early, but not too early, we're sending someone down here, and you will talk."

"Screw you."

The monochromatic captain was almost to the door when he turned back and called into the vast room "I'll see if the guards will take that chain off of you… and clean yourself up, will you? It's embarrassing. "

Gin hissed at him as a bright beam of light expanded and contracted with the opening and closing of the door. For ten minutes, he lay alone on the ground, too weak to even pull himself back to the ledge. It briefly crossed his mind that if he kept in that spot, he would miss the sunset, but he shrugged that thought away. He would be there for the sunset the next day, and the next, and a number of days stretching out into infinity, and perhaps even longer. If they were not going to make short work of him, as Byakuya suggested, who was to say that they wouldn't drag this out forever? Perhaps that was the punishment for not giving the interview that someone in some high place clearly desired—instead of killing him, they would trap him in the massive tower indefinitely, immobilized by his deteriorating body as his mind slowly dripped away.

Gin was just about to close his eyes to sleep when he heard the sound of the door creaking open again, followed by the heavy footsteps of four men. He had been through this before: two to hold him at the shoulders, one to stand and watch, and one to do what they actually came in to do. As the burlier pair lifted him into a workable position, Gin noticed that the 'doing stuff' guard held not the key to the chain around his ankle but a basket containing objects that Gin could not quite make out from the awkward pose at which he was being held. He could feel the smile creeping across his face once again.

"What's in the basket?" his voice sounded dry and cracked, without any of the humor he could usually work up.

"Shut up." said the armed guard whose face Gin did not recognize, but the guard with the basket—a stocky, fresh-faced young man whose name was probably Kuro, though Gin never really bothered to remember—stepped in.

"Clean clothes and a damp cloth to clean your face with."

Gin smirked and repositioned as much as possible to face the armed man.

"See? No need to be rude here…"

Kuro moved in to undo the tie at Gin's waist.

"We were instructed to pretty you up for your visitor today."

Gin twisted again as he felt the robe open up in the front, leaving him partially exposed.

"What do you mean today?" Gin finally asked. "I thought Kuchiki said tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow." Kuro explained, motioning for the guard on the right to loosen his grip on Gin's arm so that he could continue to remove the robe. "Captain Kuchiki spoke to you yesterday."

Suddenly aware of the fresh morning light streaming in through the windows, Gin sighed. The slight pains in his neck and lower back telling him now that he actually had fallen asleep where he landed on the floor during his—frankly, pathetic—altercation with the Captain. Wonderful.

It wasn't until Kuro got the robe off of him and Gin found himself standing uncomfortably naked in the cool air of the Senzaikyu that he remembered the question he had neglected to ask the previous evening.

"Say, who's coming for me, anyhow?"

"He can't tell you that, asshole." The guard holding his left shoulder breathed into his ear, breath hot and pungent on Gin's face. He felt his throat contract like he was about to be sick and he snapped his mouth shut. Kuro pulled the new robe from the basket, but suddenly stopped short.

"If you're going to vomit, do it before I put the new clothes on you."

Gin shook his head, though he kept his mouth closed. The idea of being naked any longer in this company was even more unpleasant than the guard's breath. The weeks of captivity had stripped away what little excess flesh he had, and being there, unclothed, in the cold, reduced to nothing but bones and physical weakness—it gave him an uncanny sense of vulnerability that he deliberately had not felt since childhood.

"Right." Kuro finally said as he went to work wrapping the new robe, identical to the last except in terms of cleanliness, around Gin's emaciated body and wiping down his face and neck with the damp cloth from the basket, paying special attention to the area around the thick red collar secured tightly around the neck of the prisoner.

When all of this was done, the two shoulder guards walked Gin back to the ledge by the window and sat him at its edge. Gin, like a child, jingled the chain that had spent the night around his ankle.

"Are you going to take this off? It's getting pretty itchy, and Kuchiki said…"

"That, I've actually been instructed to leave on." Kuro cut him off. "The visitor. You understand."

Gin slouched as the shoulder guards finally let go of him and hurried to the other side of the line. His stomach grumbled again, but the guards ignored the sound. Gin balled his fist and pressed it into his abdomen.

"You just sit tight. He'll be here in a few minutes."

By the time Gin looked up, the guards had already walked out, shutting the door behind them. Gin lay down on the ledge, turning away from the doorway but keeping his eyes fixed on its reflection in the window. Through the glass, he could feel the heat trying to break its way through from the outside. It would be a nice day in Seireitei, the sort of day that a year earlier, he would have spent eating sweets and wandering the labyrinth. Any hotter, he would be inside 'doing paperwork', any cooler… definitely laying invisible tripwires a few inches above the ground in the stalls of the Sixth Squad barrack's men's room and waiting outside to hear the girly screams of his victims. He shut his eyes all the way and curled closer into himself.

When he heard the door unlock and creak open not one minute later, Gin's entire body went rigid, his back straightening so quickly that he almost smacked his head into the wall. In the window reflection, he could barely make out the tall form of the man who entered through the high lighting on that side of the building.

"You know," Gin drawled as deliberately as possible. "I almost feel bad for you, having to spend such a nice day in here with slime like me."

"Springtime in the Soul Society…" came the deep, pleasant voice, "It's not as if days like this are few or far between. Anyway, today's a little heavy on the pollen for my taste, so I honestly can think of nothing better."

Gin rolled over with open eyes and stared Captain Jushiro Ukitake directly in the face. "It sounds like you're trying to be cute."

The left shoulder guard with the rancid breath crept in carrying a folding chair under his arm.

"No, no, I'm not. Are you? Thank you." Ukitake sat down in the chair as it was set up a few inches behind the line, placing the purple drawstring bag he had arrived with on the floor. For a moment, he paused, coughing quietly into his hand, before smiling gently and folding his hands in his lap.

"I wonder if Kuchiki told you that I wouldn't talk."

"He informed me of this moments after leaving this place yesterday. He said you were being very uncooperative."

Ukitake ran his fingers though his long, white hair, though never breaking eye contact with the criminal who lay stretched on the ledge ten feet in front of him.

"I understand why you would resist to opening up in such a fashion…"

"And why's that?"

Ukitake shrugged. "Your pride's been hurt, you're trying to hold on to what little you have left."

Gin rolled his eyes. The psychoanalysis reminded him of Aizen telling the older captain off as they floated up to the Gargantua, forever leaving the Soul Society as a home. Gin could barely remember what Aizen had said that day—all of the events had long since blurred together in his head, but there was no way it was flattering. Ukitake seemed perfectly nice now, though; away from Aizen's influence, even in the moments after, he was astounded as how clear his vision had become.

As nice as the Captain seemed now, though, he had to make his lack of interest in speaking to him almost palpable, or he was sure Ukitake would never go away.

"Unless I'm incorrect."

Ukitake's words caught Gin off guard, and for a moment, his smirk went slack. The Captain casually stretched out his arms in front of himself before crossing them across his chest, and staring up towards the endless vault of the tower, following the spiraling stone staircase into the ceiling some twenty stories up.

"And in that case, you can feel free to correct me." Ukitake looked back to the captive. "Of course, to do that, you will have to speak—and, of course, what you speak will have to be the truth."

Gin paused, chewing this comment over in his mind.

"And before you ask, I have no idea what's in this for you." Ukitake was rifling through the purple satchel now. Slowly, Gin tried to prop himself up against the wall.

"What, has Yamamoto finally realized how useless you've been and stripped you of your captaincy?"

"You know, Gin," Ukitake began, raising an eyebrow. "Comments about my illness have long ceased to bother me, and I highly doubt anything you say could get under my skin. I see exactly what you're trying to do."

"And what's that?"

"You're trying to drive me off. Never before have you been so easy to read."

Gin sneered at him, but Ukitake smiled pleasantly back.

"So, are you going to prove me wrong about your pride? Are you going to tell me that you won't speak because you're a big strong man who just happens to be caught in a jam, and you'd hate to accidently reveal the identity of the loyal followers you're got helping you to plan your escape? That's what it sounds like you're trying to tell me, and if that's the truth…"

"You're wrong, Ukitake." Gin hissed as frustration swelled in his chest. "It's different than that. It's not something you could imagine-"

The captive cut himself off. Ukitake stared on, tenderly.

"You're right again. I can't imagine what goes on in your head. See? I was trying to provoke you, now."

"You're not very good at it."

"That it may seem, but you've already opened your mouth." Ukitake paused, pulling a little electronic recorder out of his bag and leaning down to set it on the line at his feet. "And I happen to know that this is the only thing between you and your execution. The faster you talk, the faster we get it over with and kill you on that hill, but the longer you talk, the longer it'll take. Either way, you'll have something to do until the end—but we know you're going to talk, and we know you're going to talk today. Do you know how we know that?"

Gin was silent, an unnerving smile graced Ukitake's features instead of his own. The captain sat up in his seat and smoothed his long hair once again.

"I'll tell you. Rumors have been spreading throughout the Soul Society. You've become quite the curiosity."

"And why do I care?"

"Glad you asked. I mean, Lieutenant Matsumoto is pretty excellent at her job, but being psychic is not an aspect of it. How will she know what to believe once you're gone but the questions still persist?"

Slowly, sadly, Gin opened his eyes.

"You're not just doing this for her."

"Unfortunately, no, but I'm sure if anyone should know the whole truth-"

"There are some things you can never tell her."

"I will personally make sure she doesn't listen to anything you find inappropriate. In fact, if it has you that worried, it is to my understanding that the tapes will be sealed to the general public. Not only will she not hear those things, but no one will be able to tell her, because no one else will know."

Gin nodded and shut his eyes again.

"That's good, that's good."

For a moment, a tiny voice—his own—shouted from the depths of memory, 'You idiot! Do you know what you're about to do?', but Gin pushed it aside. He was going soft. The mere mention of Rangiku Matsumoto, whom he hadn't seen since the closing chapters of the Winter War, fighting her way through the half-truths and flat lies that swirled around her was almost too much for him to bear—but he kept his cool. If he would stalk and kill a man for her, couldn't he also give an explanation?

But… logically, he knew what Ukitake was asking for was more than 'an explanation'—it was a memoir, a retrospective, a look back on everything he had been twisted to do, everything he had twisted himself to do, everything he had been born for and everything he had nearly died for. The things that fell heavily on his chest, even though he could hardly identify them intellectually, the things that lightened his step that he had had to keep a secret for more than a hundred years. For all this, his body ached, his mind fizzled. For all this, one woman? The love of one wonderful woman that he knew he could now never have? He'd wasted his potential, squandered his inheritance. If he's let it go. If he'd only let it go.

Gin held his breath. Perhaps it was time after all.

Exhaling shakily, but trying to keep his voice casual, Gin finally whispered: "Sure, then. Whatever."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Hello again! Sorry it took so long for me to put up this next chapter. Over the past two weeks, both my beta reader and myself were afflicted with horrible illnesses and rendered incapable of anything but being sick chickens. Blah. Anyway, I'm aware that not much happens in this chapter, but hey, some of this stuff's just gotta get said. ALSO thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter. That was very nice of you. It's exciting for me to know that people whom I do not know personally are reading my things, because that usually doesn't happen, so thanks again! :)

Disclaimer: Bleach is not mine.

Warnings: A bit of off-color language here, but like, once. Nothing else, really.

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><p><strong>CHAPTER II<strong>

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><p>"Great. That is great."<p>

Ukitake smiled broadly and held one long, white arm high in the air, his sleeve falling down and pooling around his elbow. After a few moments in this position, he snapped his fingers with a loud, dramatic pop that echoed through the cavernous interior of the Senzaikyu. On the floor, though Gin hardly noticed it at first, a tiny green light on the left end of the little rounded recorder went on at Ukitake's gesture.

"On loan from the Twelfth Squad. Pretty neat, yeah? I've been looking forward to doing that all morning."

"It's alright."

The smile awkwardly twitched away from Ukitake's face.

"Anyway, you can start wherever you want, so what do you want to talk about?"

Gin rolled his eyes back to make a thinking face as ideas began pouring into his skull, though he batted them away almost as quickly as they appeared. For now, Aizen was out of the question, though he figured he would have to get around to him at some point. Izuru Kira, too, but for different reasons, would not become a topic of discussion. Even Matsumoto—though he readily admitted she was his reason for doing this—was swatted out of his brainpan. With her went most of his childhood—or, the interesting parts anyway. The other parts of his childhood in the Rukongai, his brief time in the academy, wandering Hueco Mundo, Las Noches, the war—he couldn't possibly talk about them. Gin was sure no one would want to hear those stories, and he felt like he could barely remember them enough to discuss anyway.

After a little while, Gin realized he was making a mental list of everything he _was not _going to talk about. A dull pain was starting to blossom in his forehead. Gin suddenly felt like a child dared to jump off a tall, sheer cliff into the swirling ocean hundreds of feet below. He was almost fine with the challenge—until he put his toes to the cliff's edge and peered over into the water. His heart began to pound so heavily that he could feel it twitch oddly in his chest. Pressure was rising slowly in his throat and painfully, he swallowed it back down.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Gin coughed and cleared his throat. "I'm fine."

Ukitake narrowed his eyes.

"If I may make an observation, you look absolutely terrible."

"So do you."

"But seriously." The captain lowered his voice. "What have they done to you?"

"Who is 'they'?"

"The guards here, the Central Forty-Six, anyone."

Gin gave a hollow laugh—more like a sharp breath than anything with humor behind it. For a moment, he was sure Ukitake was asking about his time under… The captive shrugged, his bony shoulders digging uncomfortably into the wall with this slight movement.

"They've done nothing, really."

He turned to look out the window. It had only been an hour or two since Ukitake came in, but it felt like much longer. Outside, the sun was still high in the nearly cloudless sky and Seireitei sparkled neatly in the late morning.

"You can't expect me to believe that-"

"Why are you trying to be so nice to me?"

"What?"

The expression on Ukitake's face approached one of genuine surprise before doubling back and settling on neutral.

"You heard me. The whole time I've been in here, the only nice person I've met was the short guard out there, umm, Kida, Kuro, Kyo, something like that—and the first thing he did when he met me was try to punch me in the neck… and now you're wondering how I'm feeling?"

"Gin," Ukitake began, his tone low and stern. In a swift motion, Ukitake snapped his long fingers over the recorder and the light went dead. It momentarily dawned on Gin how odd it sounded to have his former colleague address him by his given name before he realized what the Captain was doing. "Listen to me. I can tell that no matter what sorts of questions I ask you, you won't say anything today that my bosses are interested in hearing, and I've been told to bring something back every time I'm here. I'm assuming it's understood that you need to talk, and you are expected to discuss a few… choice incidents. You know you have no choice."

Gin inhaled slowly.

"Right."

"So now we both have a job to do, and I'm trying to make yours easy on you. I'll prompt you, you'll discuss, and I'll leave you alone until Wednesday morning. Okay?"

Nearly frowning, Gin slumped in his seat. He could see Ukitake's idea, and he was grateful for it, but all of the kindness was almost too much for him to handle. In the Soul Society, pre-defection, he had always been something of an outcast. Even in Hueco Mundo, those with whom he worked tended treat him with either annoyance or fear more than anything. There were generally few exceptions to this rule.

"Okay." Gin said, his voice cracking slightly on the second syllable. The left corner of Ukitake's mouth perked up in a little half-smile at Gin's response.

"Good boy." He whispered, snapping his fingers again over the recorder. When the light blinked green, Ukitake cleared his throat. "So, what has it been like here? I can't imagine you're enjoying yourself."

He nodded at Gin, who turned to face the window, thinking for a second as he examined his reflection against that of the white-haired captain and the stone walls in the glass.

"I'm not." Gin took a deep breath. Suddenly, he felt as though words would spill from his mouth like a fountain, but he stopped himself. He was testing the waters. He knew if he jumped right in, he would regret it moments after. "I'm exhausted."

A pause. Gin could feel his face flush and he splayed his hand over it; thin fingers bent to just brush his lower eyelids.

"I can barely walk I'm so tired, and even if I could, it wouldn't make a difference because they've kept me chained up right here for a while now."

Gin could see Ukitake nodding and looking down at the recorder, his hair hanging heavily over his shoulders.

"Ukitake."

"Yes?"

"I'm done talking about this. I'm bored to tears here already, and talking about it is making me even more so… aww hell."

Gin's sentence was punctuated by another low growl from his innards.

"That doesn't sound very good."

"Oh no, it's not." Sighing, the prisoner dangled one leg off of the ledge, the chain on his ankle clinking loudly as his pale toes touched the dusty floor.

"Are you sick?"

"I'm starving."

"Oh."

"It's been almost a week since they've fed me."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's because I scare them."

Ukitake raked his hair back with his fingers and gave Gin a small, sad smile. They both knew that Gin's assertion was mostly true. The captain coughed. The former captain shifted on his ledge. For a long time, the recorder picked up nothing but the rustle of clothing and the light breathing of the two men.

"This should be enough for today." Ukitake said finally, snapping his fingers again and picking up the recorder off of the floor. "I'm coming back on Wednesday, okay? You know what you have to do."

"Yeah, yeah."

Gin waved a floppy hand at the Captain, who stood up and slung his purple bag over his shoulder.

"Gin."

Gin looked up. Ukitake stood behind his half-folded chair, one hand on the back-rest, one on the edge of the seat. His face was tilted downwards and his white hair once again dangled like icicles around it. The angle made him look vaguely threatening. Vaguely.

"Mmm?"

"Remember, okay?"

"Yeah."

A few moments later, the guards had opened the door, fussed over the Captain and his terribly folded chair, and begun to shut the door once again. As the open threshold grew smaller, something tumbled through the gears in Gin's head before settling down by his chained foot.

"Aw shit, the chain!" the captive called, but by the time the last syllable left his mouth, the door had long been shut, leaving him alone in his gray tower.

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><p>Captain Ukitake could have said he had never been happier to be out in the sunlight, but he would have been lying—there was nothing like getting over a good bout of bloody, phlegmy lung disease to make a man appreciate the outdoors.<p>

Second to that, however, was the Senzaikyu—that needlessly huge, unnecessarily foreboding fortress strategically placed at the center of the labyrinthine city. It was almost medieval in its purpose and it seemed as haunted as it could possibly be given its geography in the afterlife. It was almost undeniably engineered to have this effect on all who entered it, right now to the very material from which it was constructed. With Ichimaru inside it, the effect was even worse.

Hurrying across the gangway, Ukitake tried to appear as though he was keeping his cool, but this became impossible the moment Kiyone Kotetsu and Sentaro Kotsubaki tumbled from behind a bush at the foot of the bridge, almost toppling their Captain as they did so.

"Captain Ukitake!"

"Captain Ukitake!"

"Ohh... Hello!" Ukitake said brightly, raising a hand in both a gesture of greeting and a way of keeping himself balanced. Kiyone reached out to grab his hand, but before she could make contact, Ukitake had steadied himself.

"Captain! The Captain-Commander wishes to see you immediately!"

"Captain! Captain Yamamoto wishes to see you immediately!"

Kiyone and Sentaro turned and nearly growled at each other. Ukitake was sure he saw a tiny bolt of lightning bridge the gap between their eyes.

"Captain, I was…" began Kiyone in a tone just slightly louder than was natural.

"Captain Ukitake, you…" Sentaro shouted at nearly the same time, cutting his co-third seat off as she did the same to him. They glared at each other again.

As calmly as he could, Ukitake smiled and placed his hands on his subordinates' shoulders, causing both to suddenly ease up and turn towards him.

"You two…" he began softly. They were almost cute when they fawned over him, and he felt bad doing this, but the question had to be asked. "How long did you spend waiting for me in that bush?"

Kiyone instantly looked to her feet, while Sentaro took interest in something a few feet above their heads. Ukitake gently patted them both on the back.

"I figured as much."

"Captain!"

"Captain!"

Ukitake removed his hands and took a step back.

"No, no, it's fine. What were you supposed to be doing?"

There was a long pause.

"Paperwork."

"Paperwork."

"I'll see you two later, then." The Captain gently turned them both around and gave them each a slight push forward. Kiyone turned for a moment and peered over her shoulder, but said nothing, before both she and Sentaro shunpo'd out of sight. Ukitake coughed quietly, though the smile remained on his face. His third-seats were a bit much for him at times, but he knew that they meant well. In his head, Ukitake turned over the message it took both Kiyone and Sentaro to deliver. More tired than he should be but nearly positive of what the Captain-Commander wanted, he finally convinced himself to set off towards the First Squad barracks.

As his flash-steps carried him across the rooftops of Seireitei, Ukitake gently bounced his purple bag on his shoulder. A birthday gift from Kyoraku a few years earlier, the little satchel supposedly made its contents feel twenty percent lighter, and whether this was true or not, Ukitake was willing to believe it—whenever he used it, the disparity in weight made him feel as if he were forgetting something. By the time he stopped before the imposing front gates to the barracks, however, Ukitake was certain that he had, in fact, remembered to collect the recorder from the floor of the Senzaikyu. Quickly, he pushed open the door and slipped into the well-lit entrance hall.

The front room of the barracks possessed the atmosphere one would expect in the front room of the very fancy home of some very fancy person. Ukitake walked through the foyer into the hall where the captains' meetings were held, now almost eerie in its emptiness, before following a thin hallway to the Old Man's office.

"Hello?"

Ukitake raised his hand and rapped on the wooden door. From behind it, he could hear the Captain Commander's low, rumbling voice, followed by the less low, less rumbling voice of his lieutenant. Ukitake knocked again.

"Hello! Sorry, it's-"

The door opened a crack before Ukitake could finish his sentence. Through the tiny opening, he could just barely make out the golden eye of Lieutenant Sasakibe peering back at him.

More mumbling. Ukitake sighed and began to twist his feet on the perfectly polished floor, though the door slid open all the way before he could break out into a full dance routine. Quickly, Captain Ukitake snapped to attention.

"Uh, Captain… you wished to see me?"

Yamamoto nodded and motioned for the younger man to enter the wide, low-ceilinged office. Ukitake took a few steps forward and stopped at the desk that occupied the center of the room, almost afraid to breathe for fear of accidently scattering the papers that lay in messy piles about every visible flat surface. Sasakibe slid the door shut behind him.

Yamamoto did not look up from what he was doing.

"Juushiro, sit down. I don't have much time to talk."

Ukitake did as he was told, pulling up one of the straight-backed wooden chairs that sat opposite the old man.

"I gather you have just returned from speaking to the prisoner?"

"Yes, sir." Ukitake began, slowly loosening the mouth of the purple bag. "I have the tape right here."

"Excellent." Yamamoto, still not looking at anything but the form in front of him, extended his arm across the desk. Ukitake withdrew the rounded recorder and fiddled with the buttons until it spat out a little tape—the 'blank' reel significantly more full than the recorded one. Only when Ukitake placed it in Yamamoto's hand did he glance up from his form.

"He was more cooperative than expected, though I'm afraid he still appears to be warming up to me."

"Yes, yes. Sasakibe."

'Yes, sir."

Sasakibe moved from where he had been standing by the door to Yamamoto's desk. The old man placed the tape directly into his Lieutenant's outstretched palm, saying something to him in a voice so low that three feet away, Ukitake could not make it out. A few moments later, Sasakibe left the office with the tape in his hand.

"So you say the criminal will not yet speak?"

"Not entirely. He has consented to the ongoing interview, he just needs time."

"For now, you have that."

"For now?"

Yamamoto looked the younger Captain directly in the eye, but said nothing. Ukitake nodded and tried to push the words from his mind, though he was still not entirely sure what the old man meant.

"Juushiro, I will be expecting a second tape by Wednesday evening."

"Yes, sir." Ukitake said quietly as he stood up and made his way to the sliding door. Ukitake was almost sure that by Wednesday, Ichimaru would be more likely to actively be constructing an escape tunnel through the floor of the Senzaikyu than be willing to tell stories, but the Thirteenth Squad Captain kept his thoughts to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Hello there! This is the next chapter of my fanfictions! I'm actually very happy with how this one turned out, even though I may have temporarily written myself into a corner (I'm pretty sure I didn't though.) Anyway, lets focus on neat things, shall we? I have a tendency to do a lot of research for things I write, and so for this story I've been reading up on everything from persimmons to Bleach canon (so I don't forget about any more ripped off arms or anything), and as I was reading the Bleach Wiki, I discovered that Ukitake and I apparently have the same birthday (and I have been dying to tell this to someone). Cool! If anyone has any desire to find out when my birthday is, you now know where to look. :D

Disclaimer: Bleach is not mine.

Warnings: There's some drinking... that's probably it in terms of objectionable topics. Just a thing: I'm really sorry in advance if I miss anything that is important to be warned for, and if you see anything that you know I should, please feel free to tell me. :)

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><p><strong>CHAPTER III<strong>

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><p>During the night, Gin's window ledge became almost unbearably cold. Though he had been hoping someone would bring him a blanket since his third or fourth night in the Senzaikyu, he was certain he would never receive one. He knew that few people cared about his wellbeing and he was almost afraid to ask. Lying on the cold stone, Gin shivered and curled into himself, warming his arms with the heat from his core. He twisted lamely when his jutting bones grew sore against the hard surface. He shoved his fists into his abdomen when the feeling of having nothing inside grew too uncomfortable. He didn't sleep much.<p>

Through the glass, Gin could see the silver moon hanging huge and fat over Seireitei, peeking through the clouds in the darkened sky. In the glow, he could barely make out a young woman with a Squad Four backpack picking her way across the rooftops. Other than this movement, though, the city seemed stiller and more silent than it had in weeks. Gin focused on her until she had left his field of vision. It struck him as strange that the city would feel so empty at night, as he knew from experience that nearly no one slept regular hours, committed to at least one of the three P's (patrolling, paperwork, and partying) until the wee hours most evenings of the week. From his window in the Senzaikyu, though, Gin saw a ghost town.

Well—he never didn't see a ghost town, but at this time of the night, it truly felt like there was no one there.

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><p>In his considerably vast experience, Ukitake had discovered there were only a few adjectives with which he could describe the various drinking establishments scattered about the Soul Society. Words like 'smoky' and 'cozy' and 'bright' and 'warm' applied to some in different combinations, but after that, there were far fewer 'creative' descriptions and the rest fell into 'big' or 'small', 'loud' or 'quiet'.<p>

Oddly, the bars and izakaya in the World of the Living had far greater variation, but one could not simply pop over to _them_ for a drink, and those—like Captains Ukitake and Kyoraku—who did not often find themselves on the other side of the veil simply had to make do with what was directly available. Of course, being directly available and undeniably similar to about half of the other establishments in the Soul Society did not automatically prevent someplace from being 'damn good' as well.

Such was the case of the Red Lantern (cozy, quiet), a tiny sake shop located about a hundred paces from the Eighth Squad barracks and a favorite of one Shunsui Kyoraku.

The night before his second interview with Gin Ichimaru, Ukitake found himself inside the Red Lantern for the second time in as many weeks, sipping from a small box the Captain Kyoraku's new favorite sake—also the second in as many weeks.

"You like it, right? It's good…" Kyoraku dragged out the vowels in the word 'good' for a far longer time than the goodness of the sake warranted.

"It's alright."

"Just alright?"

"I liked last week's favorite more."

"Last week's favorite was only my favorite because I didn't know about this!"

Ukitake grinned and set down the box.

"So what? You're not even going to drink it now?"

"I have a bit of a headache."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." Ukitake massaged his right temple with his index and middle fingers. Anyone else would have kept up that line of questioning, but Kyoraku always seemed to be able to tell when it wasn't his illness that was bothering him. He nodded and went back to his own sake as Ukitake focused for a moment on his cuticles. To his dismay, they appeared to be rising slightly from the rest of his nail…

"Captain Ukitake!"

Ukitake nearly jumped out of his skin, while Kyoraku, who had seen whoever it was coming, barely looked up from his drink.

"Y-yes?"

Slowly, Ukitake turned. Lieutenant Izuru Kira stood directly behind him, his shoulders rounded, his hair hanging in his bleary eyes.

"Hello, Kira." Ukitake said with a deep breath and an attempt at a gentle smile. The Third Squad lieutenant's face was flushed and he appeared uneasy on his feet. "What can I do for you?"

"Umm…" He looked down at his feet and gently pushed away his bangs. It was a long time before Kira spoke again. "Is it true they're letting you see Captain Ichimaru?"

Ukitake held his breath. He glanced back to Kyoraku, who was showing clear interest in the conversation.

He looked Lieutenant Kira over again before responding. Though the youth had always seemed shy and melancholy in personality, these qualities certainly hit a low point in the weeks after his captain's defection—months later, however, he appeared to be on the mend. That, though, was before Gin Ichimaru had been brought back to the Soul Society. Since then, the young man had appeared anxious and drawn, apparently drinking far more and sleeping far less than he used to. While Ukitake was not well acquainted with Lieutenant Kira, it was clear even to the untrained eye that something in the boy was slightly off-kilter.

"Yes."

Kira nodded and looked up into the rafters.

"I see."

"Are you alright, Kira? Is there someone here with you?"

"There you are!" As if on cue, tall, buxom Rangiku Matsumoto appeared from nowhere and wrapped her left arm around Kira's waist. The reddish color in his cheeks deepened as Rangiku pulled him close to her. "Hi Captain, Captain."

She nodded to Ukitake and Kyoraku, each of whom nodded back. Rangiku was all smiles that evening, though Ukitake guessed that she was significantly less drunk than Izuru—a theory that was confirmed as she continued to speak. She was clearly sober enough to create the façade of being quite intoxicated, though not sober enough to keep it up.

"I should probably get him home." She tugged Kira's body into her own, rubbing his side as he grabbed at her right sleeve with wiggly, noodly fingers.

"Rangiku, Rangiku…" his voice was soft; he clearly thought he was whispering. She held her right arm almost above her head and regarded him as a babysitter would her charge.

"Mmm?"

"Rangiku… he said he was allowed to visit Captain Ichimaru."

Matsumoto nearly froze in place, her smile faltering for just a moment—long enough for her to glare at both Izuru and Ukitake.

"I know." Her voice was quiet and completely serious as she locked in eye contact with the Captain. Ukitake suddenly became very aware of his own body, every movement seemed to be amplified tenfold under her gaze. Though he was not entirely sure what he should have said—if it was appropriate to say anything at that moment—what felt like an apology was working its way up his throat.

An apology?

"Woah!" Kira said slowly as he suddenly stumbled from where he stood, knocking Matsumoto about two feet back. Choking the words back down, Ukitake watched as the two of them put their all into regaining their balance. Together, however, Matsumoto and Kira moved like a drunken amoeba and it took ages for them to finally right themselves.

"We're going to leave now." Matsumoto said as plainly as possible once they both stood on two feet. She gave Kira a yank at the waist and he stumbled again. Ukitake looked back to Kyoraku, who was grinning like an idiot watching the pair move laboriously to the exit, Matsumoto now nearly dragging Lieutenant Kira behind her. In his goofy-inebriated state, Kira seemed to be giving her an uncharacteristically hard time, but least she was smiling again. Ukitake was sure, however, that she knew a thing or two about faking it.

It was only once the two were certainly gone did either Ukitake or Kyoraku speak again.

"Well…" Ukitake began.

"Well…" Kyoraku echoed. He set his sake cup down and chuckled lightly. Ukitake sighed and hung his head.

"What am I going to do?"

Kyoraku rested his elbows on the table.

"About your interview?"

"Yeah."

Leaning back, Kyoraku spend a second looking up into the rafters before he turned back to face his friend.

"Going badly?"

"It's on the verge of it."

"Ahh." A pause. "'Badly' how? He throws things at you 'badly'? He won't talk 'badly'? He acts like an ass? _You_ act like an ass? He-"

"The—the second one…" Ukitake waved his hand slightly, as if trying to visually indicate what he was talking about. Kyoraku raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Really really. He said he would talk in our first interview the other day…"

"But…"

"But I somehow doubt that. I made the mistake of telling him that they wouldn't execute him until he finished with everything they wanted him to say—which, according to Yamamoto was initially the truth, but no one seems to want to tell me anything—and now I have no idea what he's planning…"

"So you think he wants to drag out his imprisonment."

"Yes. No. I have no idea." Kyoraku smirked. Ukitake pushed his hair out of his face before continuing. "See… he looked absolutely horrible in there. Like a really, really miserable cadaver. I swear he almost started crying at a few points…"

"Well, you remember his test, right?"

"No."

"No?"

"I didn't sit in on it. It was you, Soifon, and Aizen."

Frowning, Kyoraku picked up his empty sake box and began to absentmindedly fiddle with it.

"No, no. You were there. Aizen observed Byakuya Kuchiki's test that same day… and I'm sure it wasn't a mind trick or anything like that."

Ukitake tried to think back to the day that Gin Ichimaru received his position as Captain of the Third Squad. In his mind, he could picture the slim form of the silver-haired man nearly contorting as he demonstrated his bankai in the most dramatic fashion humanly possible, but he knew the image he had was fabricated—like a ragdoll stitched together from pieces of memory.

"How do you…?"

"You were pretty sick that day, but you insisted on still doing it. I remember practically carrying you back to the Fourth Squad after the thing was done."

"And you're sure it wasn't Aizen?"

"Yes… well, I guess we can never be really sure about anything, but I think. You don't remember any of this?" he paused, "We decided to go outside because Old Man Yama didn't want him to tear up the building… you're sure you don't remember?"

"No."

"That's really odd… Anyway, I just remember you said, as we were waiting for him to show up, something about…" Kyoraku placed the cup back on the table with a faint 'clap' and sighed. "It sounds so strange now that I'm going to say it. It doesn't sound a thing like you…"

Ukitake sent his friend a skeptical look.

"You're sure?"

"For the last time, yes. I think of all people, I could pick out someone impersonating you… I may be remembering it wrong, then, but I'm pretty sure you said something about how sociopaths were excellent at imitating genuine emotion."

The last few words of the sentence sounded as if they had all some out in the same loud breath. Ukitake narrowed his eyes.

"Why did I say that? I mean, I guess I understand why I said it, but… it just doesn't…"

"Soifon casually called him a sociopath, and between coughs, you said that. Preceded by a thoughtful 'well…', followed by a shrug, maybe. "

Kyoraku reached out and grabbed a light green mochi from the little plate on the center of the table that had sat forgotten for most of the evening. Ukitake watched his friend curiously as he slowly broke the candy into quarters and lined them up at the edge of the table.

"Why don't I remember this?" Ukitake thought for a moment, but he realized that he had also lost track of the conversation. "Why are you bringing this up?"

"You alright there?"

"Yes. But…"

"I brought it up because you said he was crying. How do you know he wasn't faking it for your sympathy? I hate to say it, but it wouldn't be that hard to get from a stand-up guy like you." Kyoraku's expression of confusion was quickly masked by one of amusement.

"Very funny, but I can't really say either way. I mean, what does he have to hide now? Also, there's that… you know they say he tried to kill Aizen"

"I heard that too, Jushiro." Kyoraku said softly. There was a long silence from the Captains' table, though the few other patrons of the Red Lantern could still be heard, buzzing in their own quiet conversations. Finally, Kyoraku spoke again. "So, whether or not your interviewee is some sort of triple psychopath agent thing—actually, especially if he's one of those—I think the best way to get him to talk would be to dangle some reward in front of his nose."

"I don't think I would be allowed to do that, and even if I was, I have no idea what would motivate him other than… either of those two clowns."

Ukitake cracked a slight, worried smile as he gestured towards the door through which Matsumoto and Kira had disappeared earlier. As he did this, Kyoraku emptied the contents of the sake-bottle into Ukitake's half-full cup that had earlier been left sitting in the middle of the table. Extending his long arm, Kyoraku gave the little wooden box a push toward his friend.

"You're smart. You'll come up with something. Please drink it. It's really quite good. Clears your head, you know?"

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><p>In the dark, Gin found himself wishing it wasn't too cloudy to see the stars. The day had been a beautiful one, again, but by the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, the clouds had also started to move in. He was nearly certain it would rain the next day. The stone walls of the prison prevented him from smelling the damp, natural, pre-rain air the same way they prevented him from feeling anyone's reiatsu, but, like the respective reiatsus of the thousands of shinigami around him, he was sure the smell was there.<p>

"Ohh…" Gin whispered as his stomach nearly convulsed. He was so hungry that his chest hurt, his eyes hurt. He was sure he had gone longer without food before, but alone and in the cold of the Senzaikyu, Gin had little else to do but feel sorry for himself, so that was what he did as the night churned away and the moon drifted silently across the sky.

Even as the night faded, however, the darkness stayed, trapped under the blanket of clouds that pressed down on the air above the city. Eventually, the rain started, and Gin remained completely still as he watched it fall. The rhythmic tapping of the drops as they hit was just barely audible from inside the prison, but the sound was pleasant, it took him back.

There was no rain in Hueco Mundo.


End file.
